


The Way You Look (At Me)

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: (so much goddamn internal monologue), (this is deadpool and spidey b idk what you expected), Angst and Fluff, Awkward Flirting, Deadpool being Deadpool, Established Friendship, Flirting, Identity Reveal, Internal Monologue, Internal angst, M/M, Mostly Fluff, POV Peter B Parker, Post-Canon, Secret Identity, Swearing and cursing, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 01:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17295284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Wade Wilson is an idiot, but not for the reasons he thinks. Peter B. Parker is slightly less of an idiot, but not by much.ORWhen Peter gets back to his own dimension, he decides there's a conversation that needs to be had with a certain red-suited mercenary.





	The Way You Look (At Me)

**Author's Note:**

> In some comic somewhere there’s a thing where Deadpool refuses to look at Spider-Man’s face without his mask because he doesn’t want to find his secret identity out without permission. 
> 
> I wanted to take that concept for a spin.

“You can fucking look at me, Wilson.” Peter grips his mask more tightly in his hand as Wade continues to stare at the ground, obviously processing the offer.

“I _thought_ you wanted to keep your identity a secret,” Wade says to the cracked, dirty concrete beneath their feet. “We’ve done this before. Same song, same dance. I made a promise not to—“

“Yeah, I know,” Peter says impatiently. “I _didn’t_ want you to know who I was. But things are different, now.”

Wade scoffs. “Oh, yeah. Sure. What the hell is so different, now, huh?”

Peter flinches at the scorn, the thinly-veiled anger bubbling just beneath the surface. He _knows_ Wade hates this rule between them, hates it just as much as he’s respected it for all the years they’ve been accidentally showing up at the same crime scenes to dole out vigilante justice. Peter knows Deadpool’s secret identity, but Wade has never known Spider-Man’s, because…

Oh, _fine_ , goddammit, _alright_. Because Peter had been _scared_.

Rule number one of keeping himself, his private life, and his friends and family safe was _always_ to keep his identity hidden. He’d drilled it into his own head for years. No matter who wanted to know, he’d kept it a secret. He hadn’t even told _MJ_ , which… had only formed another rift in their relationship, and hadn’t helped his case when he couldn’t explain his absences from the house on nights when they both should’ve been fast asleep.

Aunt May had died without knowing his secret, and she’d lived a long time, and died a natural death. Keeping his secret kept people _safe._ With great power came great responsibility, and his greatest responsibility of all was making sure his loved ones didn’t die by his hand.

The other universe, though, Miles’ universe… It had been different, there. May had known his secret, there, and so had Mary Jane. (Or, they’d known his alternate universe’s secret, which was technically _his_ secret… The whole multiverse thing was still too complicated to wrap his head around, sometimes.) And not only had they known his secret, but it actually seemed like the _knowing_ had enhanced their lives, somehow. Even if his counterpart had died, May and MJ had seemed… satisfied by the good that their Peter had managed to do in his time in that dimension.

There was no Aunt May in this dimension to talk to, not anymore, and telling MJ… wasn’t an option. It wasn’t an option Peter was prepared to think about, anyways, because that meant talking to MJ again, and after showing up on her doorstep with flowers only to find that reconciling wasn’t something she was ready for, he wasn’t ready for another try _anytime_ soon. Without either of them to talk to, the only person Peter really trusted enough was one Wade fucking Wilson. Which had felt absolutely ridiculous when the thought had popped into his head, but the more he thought about it, the more he’d realised how much Deadpool had actually done for him. He’d proven himself, time and time again, over and over, and Peter was certain that he would only continue to prove himself as time went on. For all the shit Deadpool spouted about not caring about anything, and being cool and cold and whatever else he was supposed to be, Wade had always respected his request for privacy, even if he didn’t understand it. And he’d been around through Peter’s darkest days. Every time Peter’d had even the vaguest thought about doing something to quit being Spider-Man, or worse, to do something to quit existing, period, Deadpool had been there with a stupid joke and a weak attempt at grabbing his ass or something else equally inane. And it had worked, because even if it had been _beyond_ stupid, Peter was also aware that Wade probably did actually give a shit about him, somewhere behind all of his defensive layers of sarcasm and sass.

And now, Peter is standing behind a dumpster in a gross, smelly alleyway with Wade Wilson with his suit on and his mask off, waiting for Wade to finally look up and learn who he is. And Wade _won’t fucking look._

“ _I’m_ different,” Peter finally answers quietly. He’s a little shocked by the sudden stark, raw quality his voice has taken on, and he can tell that Wade can feel the sudden shift in emotion, because his shoulders stiffen a little beneath the weapons he carries on his back. He swallows hard. “God. I’m _trying_ to be different.” No more fear. No more crying himself to sleep. No more pretending he didn’t like it when Wade flirted with him. The hole left in his heart by his and MJ’s divorce isn’t going to fill itself in overnight, but it doesn’t mean he’s blind to his feelings for certain… _other_ people. Specifically, for a certain person, wearing red, standing right in front of him. “I’ve done a lot of shit wrong, Wade. I know. Believe me--” A dark chuckle. “I know. But… if anyone deserves things to go right for once, it’s you.”

Wade laughs, but it sounds forced, stiff. “You flatter me, babe.” His voice cracks on the last word, and he clears his throat hard with a sound somewhere between a cough and a half-voiced _ah_.

Peter frowns, because Wade still hasn’t looked up, and he takes a slow step forward, broken shards of glass crunching indelicately under his feet. Wade’s head snaps up for a split second before he whips it away, so quickly that Peter can hear the cracking sound it makes from where he’s standing. He winces, but it doesn’t deter him from taking another step, and then another, until there’s barely a foot between himself and Wade.

“I know you know how bad it’s been for me since the divorce,” he says, and Wade doesn’t acknowledge him. His breathing sounds louder, though, harsh in the mouth of his mask. Peter takes that as acknowledgement enough and continues. “I know you know more than you let on. And I know it’s not a coincidence that you tend to show up more frequently when I’m depressed.” He _doesn’t_ actually know that, but the sharp intake of breath Wade takes, followed by a second of no breathing at all, confirms his suspicion. There’s a hint of a smile that threatens for a moment, just a moment, because it’s… _nice_ to know that Wade is off-balance. He’s not used to this, Peter knows. Deadpool’s usually the one doing the interrogating, not being interrogated. And Wade is usually the one catching people off-guard, not the other way around.

“ _And,”_ Peter adds, like it’s the cherry on top, because it _is_. “I know that you give a shit about me. I know that you care way more than you pretend to about me, because you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

“You’ve got a nice ass, Spidey. Don’t get cocky,” Wade snaps, but it’s weak, and his voice has a soft, slightly defeated edge to it that Peter isn’t used to hearing. Peter snorts in response, and then reaches forward, laying his hand against Wade’s covered cheek and applying just the barest hint of pressure.

“I’m not afraid of showing you who I am because I _trust_ you, Wade,” he says, and immediately feels Wade jerk slightly against his hand. “What are _you_ afraid of?”

For a moment, they just stand there, connected only by the hand Peter refuses to move from Wade’s cheek. Neither of them move. Neither of them speak. The only sound comes from the cars on the street and the too-harsh, too-fast breath from behind Wade’s mask. It feels like an eternity, but Peter feels like he’s learned a lifetime of patience from his time spent with Miles in that other dimension, so he doesn’t mind the wait.

And then, very slowly, Wade’s head twitches a little, and he makes a quiet growling sound somewhere in the back of his throat, like he’s steeling himself verbally as much as physically and mentally. He reaches up and rips his own mask off in one fluid motion, and Peter lets his hand fall away as Wade, now mask-less as well, finally drags his head up to meet Peter’s gaze.

Peter lets him look for a good second before he smiles hesitantly and reaches out again, this time to bridge the gap between them halfway in an offered handshake. “My name is Peter Parker. It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Wade.”

Wade continues to stare at him even as he lifts a hand to shake Peter’s, gaze slowly roaming from his eyes to the rest of his face. He holds onto Peter’s hand just hard enough to discourage Peter from letting go as he takes in the sight of his features clearly for the first time, and Peter lets him, his own grip gentle.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Wade breathes out eventually, and Peter raises his eyebrows. Wade’s features are alight with _something_ , something wild and unabashedly _pleased_ , and Peter wants to think it’s a good sign, but with Wade, he can never be completely certain of anything.

“I know I’m not the most--” Peter begins, awkward smile dropping into a grimace, but Wade interrupts him before he can finish.

“You’re even sexier than I imagined you would be,” Wade says, and Peter might’ve disregarded it as meaningless flirting in any other situation, but the way Wade is looking at him… Peter actually thinks he’s being serious. “Oh, shit. Fuck,” he adds plainly, and in an instant, he’s ripped his hand away from Peter’s entirely, and he turns, covering his face with his hands and making a loud, groaning sound into them. “ _Fuck_.”

Peter blinks. “Uh… Wade?”

Wade ignores him. “--idiot,” he growls into his hands, running them over the top of his head with his fingers curled into something reminiscent of claws. “Such a fucking idiot. God, I shouldn’t have fucking… _shit_!” He yells the last expletive and lashes out, kicking at the dumpster nearest to him. A resounding _clang_ echoes through the alley, and Peter winces, watching helplessly as Wade curses again and hops on one foot in front of him. Sure, he hadn’t been sure how Wade would react to seeing him, but nothing could have prepared him for _this._

“ _Wade_ ,” Peter repeats, and when Wade continues to hop without acknowledging his presence, he rolls his eyes and huffs out an annoyed breath and steps easily into Wade’s space, grabbing both of his shoulders and forcing him into stillness. “What the _hell_ is wrong with you?” he asks, and Wade drops his foot gingerly down to the ground and glares at him for all of three seconds before his expression softens. Wade’s gaze roams, obviously without much thought, around his face, eyes flicking desperately over his features like he’ll never get another chance. Peter feels his cheeks redden under the scrutiny, but he doesn’t let go of Wade, gripping his shoulders just left of too hard.

“You’re _hot_ ,” Wade responds, the words ripping themselves out of his mouth in a whine that Peter isn’t expecting. His cheeks tinge further, and Wade gives a second whine, one that’s wordless and ridiculously needy.

Peter tries to steady himself. He didn’t come here to be the one off-balance. “Why is that suddenly a problem?” he asks, aiming for the teasing banter they usually exchange and missing it by a mile. Wade doesn’t seem any more bothered by it than he already is, but he bites his lip and Peter’s gaze flicks down momentarily, distracted despite himself.

“The problem,” Wade says, releasing his lip from between his teeth. “Is that I’ve been parading around like an idiot looking like the rear end of an elephant with diarrhea for brains while you’ve been hiding your fucking supermodel face under a mask for years, and I didn’t have any goddamn clue how _stupid_ you probably thought I was.” He laughs humorlessly, the sound bordering something near hysteria. “Fuck. I mean, I know I’m _stupid_ , but this is a whole ‘nother fucking level, even for me.”

“You’re not stupid,” Peter counters immediately, and Wade laughs again, one loud, fake _HAH!_ Peter shakes his head, ignoring the sound. “You’re not stupid, Wade. Look, you’re a lot of things, _a lot of things_ , but stupid isn’t one of them.” He relaxes his grip on Wade’s shoulders a little, so that he’s no longer digging into the suit and instead just holding him in place, and when Wade doesn’t immediately pull away again, Peter finds himself smiling. It’s a small smile --big smiles are hard, and they take more effort than he’s willing to expend-- but it’s a genuine one, and he likes the way Wade’s gaze falls to his lips and then jump back to his eyes when he does it. “And for the record? I’m pretty sure I would have stopped this whole _thing_ \--” Peter gestures between them with one hand, picking it up from Wade’s shoulder and then letting it fall to rest on its side against his neck, right where suit gives way to marred skin. When Wade shivers, Peter can feel gooseflesh raise under his fingers. “--a long time ago if I had a problem with the way you look.”

Wade seems distracted, and it takes him a second to catch up with what Peter’s saying. Peter lets him process. It’s enlightening to watch his face, really. Peter has seen Wade without his mask on more times than he can possibly count, but he’s never really _looked_ like this, close enough to touch, to feel the jagged edges of the scars underneath the pads of his fingers. Wade has always described himself as _ugly_ , whether jokingly or not, but Peter has never quite agreed with him. He certainly isn’t conventional-looking, and he’s definitely not going to win any beauty contests anytime soon, but neither is Peter, no matter what kind of supermodel Wade calls him. Wade is just… different. It’s not a bad different. It’s jarring, the first few times he takes off the mask, but after that, Peter has just… gotten used to it.

And the expressions that dance across his face are more genuine now than Peter’s ever seen them, too; he’s pleased to see them up close like this, because it’s fascinating. Wade stares at him unseeingly for a moment, eyes unfocused, like the gentle touch to his skin has rendered him useless, and then snaps back to himself, his gaze focusing all at once and locking in on Peter’s. Peter gazes back steadily and watches as Wade slowly, very slowly, starts to smile, the tension draining from his shoulders as they study each other’s faces.

Whatever Wade sees in Peter’s eyes must resonate with him, because his own gaze is finally alight with the mischief that usually lives there when he says, “So there’s a thing, then, is there?”

Peter hums, tracing his thumb lightly along the side of Wade’s neck, just barely dipping underneath the skin-tight suit. “Maybe,” he says, letting himself look away nonchalantly, focusing somewhere over Wade’s shoulder. It might seem coy if he the smile on his face didn’t grow uncontrollably during his answer.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Wade replies intelligently, and when Peter looks back at him, Wade is staring open-mouthed and wide-eyed at him. Peter blushes, any semblance of his attempt at seeming _sexy_ flying out the window. Wade doesn’t even seem to notice. “I’m never gonna get used to this, Spidey,” he says, and Peter arches both brows again. Wade stares at him uncomprehendingly, so Peter helps him out.

“Peter,” he prompts lightly, nudging Wade in the collarbone with his thumb.

“Yeah. That. I’m never gonna get used to that,” Wade says, but it sounds less like he’s complaining and more like he’s excited about the prospect. “Oh, man. This is crazy. Is this crazy?”

“Probably,” Peter replies with a shrug. He knows there’s a glint in his eye, because he catches the moment Wade sees it. It ignites a fire in Wade’s own gaze that delights Peter to no end. His heart lifts a little at the sight, and maybe, just maybe, this might just work out like Peter hopes it will.

“Good. Just making sure,” Wade says with a smirk, and then his hands are on Peter’s waist, and Peter is smiling wider despite the effort it should take to do it, and Wade is tugging him in closer and Peter is letting him, wrapping his arms around Wade’s back instead of leaving them on his shoulders.

When Wade kisses him soundly on the lips, Peter’s last coherent thought is that he’s _sure_ this is crazy, but that it’s alright, because if he can travel to another dimension and back again, then he can definitely trust this reckless, wild maniac with his secret identity, because if that trust comes with someone who can kiss this well, it might just be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe the last thing I wrote in 2018 and the first thing I wrote in 2019 are both centered around Peter B Parker. 
> 
> Kudos/comments are love! Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans.


End file.
